The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(16)

Rashid indicated for the driver to head off, then turned to me. “I look forward to hearing the story.”

“Thanks for being so understanding.”

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Though, I wouldn’t say no to you telling me everything right here and now.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “Okay, well, let’s see. My favorite color is purple, I like to play badminton, and I hate salami.”

Rashid’s face transformed in mock-horror. “Are you being serious? You hate salami?”

When I gave him a sad nod, he responded with a supportive pat. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

I shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t say that…” I said with a wink.

We laughed together at that. The rest of the ride was more playful, easy banter. Every time the conversation lagged, every time I started to notice how ridiculously good Rashid smelled, or how beautiful his gold-flecked eyes were, or worry that maybe we wouldn’t get along as well as it seemed, the conversation picked up again. Talking to him was like breathing; it may have paused or slowed, but it was easy—undeniably, incredibly easy.

By the time the limo had come to a stop and the door was opened, my face hurt from smiling so much. As he stepped out, Rashid gave the attendant who’d opened it an appreciative smile and thanked him, before turning his attention back to me.

“So, what do you think?”

I had to tear my gaze from his handsome face to see what he meant—the palace he was indicating behind him.

I gasped. My eyes, couldn’t decide where to stop, whether it was the lush acres of garden all around the majestic building, the ten-foot-high fountain in front of it, or the palace itself. And palace was even too paltry of a word for the structure, for it was made of ivory-white pillars and gold trellises, everything topped off with a large, teal dome.

No, this building before me was something between a temple and a palace, a fairy tale and a dream.

Self-consciously, I cleared my throat before speaking. “Rashid, it’s the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen.”

Rashid didn’t even turn to look at it. Clearly pleased, he came up to me, took my arm in his, and smiled down at me.

“Thank you, Lacie. Thank you.” Seeing the question in my face, he continued, “For everything.”

Inside, the palace was one spell-binding sight after another. There was a library the size of the one in my neighborhood, with bookshelves as tall as elephants, everything a green-upholstered and dark-wooded vision. There was a pool bigger than I’d ever seen, with clear blue waters fanning out like the horizon on the sea. The kitchen looked like that of a small restaurant, while the bathroom was the size of my whole house, with a silver jet tub so shiny, it almost looked like a mirror.

Rashid saved the best for last: the marble-floored, tastefully decorated room he explained was his own. He opened the blinds, then gestured out to his backyard, which was a natural paradise, with lush trees and exotic plants alike.

“When the sun shines into the room in the morning, I…” He shook his head. “Of course, you aren’t expected to sleep here until after the ceremony. Or ever, if you prefer.”

The last words he said with a touch of sadness that made me impulsively grab his hand.

“Rashid, I…”

But he was already continuing on down the hallway.

“Let me show you your room.”

And then, I was speechless once more before this latest gorgeous sight. A purple-themed room, with a mauve satin-sheeted bed, lilac curtains, and a plum-colored armchair.

“As soon as you mentioned what your favorite color was, I knew this room had to be yours. It was…” He fell silent, then shook his head as if shaking a thought away. “I think you should have it.”

I hugged him, grinning. “Rashid, thank you.”

But, suddenly, the mood had dampened. Drawing himself away, Rashid addressed me monotonously, as if I were a stranger.

“In a few minutes, we’ll have dinner with my parents. I’ll come get you in twenty.”

And then, he was gone, leaving me wondering what had caused the change and what I was supposed to do about it. As I slumped onto my new bed, a glance in the silver-bordered mirror revealed that I was as ill-dressed for a meal with the Sheikh and Sheikha as I had expected.

At the sound of someone at the door, I walked over to see that Rashid or someone had hung a dress bag on the door handle. So, taking it and closing the door, I set to changing. Pulling on the gown wasn’t easy, but a quick look in the mirror revealed that my trouble had been more than worth it.

I looked…

“Stunning,” Rashid said when he came to the door a few minutes later. He was smiling as if he’d never hurried off strangely at all, so I took his hand with a smile of my own.

“Thanks. Whoever left it by my door must have good taste.”

Rashid nodded with a gleam in his eye. “Mm, exquisite taste, actually.”

The dinner with Rashid’s parents started off well enough. The food was delicious—succulent lamb, spiced chicken, stuffed grape leaves, crisp salads—there seemed to be no end to the dishes that were placed before us.

The conversation was pleasant enough, too. Rashid’s beautiful, elegant mother, Salma, asked me about fashion and shopping in the U.S., and was insistent that I could be a model in Zayed-Kharan with my looks. Rashid’s father, Jamal—a somewhat frail-looking older man with a thick mustache—talked to me about badminton; he apparently used to play before his health took a turn.